Same as it ever was

The positive spin is something like, "Today is the first day of the rest of my life". That's true in its way, and I'm trying to keep it in mind.

But -- you know how people who have suffered an emotional shock say that it's all like a bad dream? Folks tend to take that as a metaphor. It's not. One of the strange sensations that I find washing over me periodically is a sense of unreality that is almost overwhelming, and it borders on the feeling of lucid dreaming. There's that sense of, "Aha! Okay, this just plain doesn't make sense, so clearly I'm dreaming." Or the variant sensation that this isn't my life -- that it is *wrong* at a very basic level.

Basically, I'm living in a near-constant state of cognitive dissonance: the world is fundamentally failing to conform to my deepest beliefs about it, because at the most basic hindbrain level, Jane had become central to those beliefs.

Folks shouldn't fret overmuch: today is better than yesterday, and I *will* get past it. Frankly, one of the reasons I had to watch every last moment of the burial, long after the point where the funeral director expected everyone to leave, was to drive home the ugly reality of it. The committal service was beautiful but somehow ethereal; the truck that was needed to lift the lid of the vault and put it into place did much to ground the proceedings and make it all feel much *less* dreamlike.

Of course, the strangeness keeps coming fast and thick. While I'm working at home today, I'm copying some VHS tapes onto DVD. The one I'm copying right now, even as I type, I hadn't even remembered existed until today: a tape of her Pelican vigil and ceremony. Seeing all of us when we were much younger (and generally much thinner) sharpens the focus of reality in a horribly synchronistic way...

Same as it ever was

The positive spin is something like, "Today is the first day of the rest of my life". That's true in its way, and I'm trying to keep it in mind.

But -- you know how people who have suffered an emotional shock say that it's all like a bad dream? Folks tend to take that as a metaphor. It's not. One of the strange sensations that I find washing over me periodically is a sense of unreality that is almost overwhelming, and it borders on the feeling of lucid dreaming. There's that sense of, "Aha! Okay, this just plain doesn't make sense, so clearly I'm dreaming." Or the variant sensation that this isn't my life -- that it is *wrong* at a very basic level.

Basically, I'm living in a near-constant state of cognitive dissonance: the world is fundamentally failing to conform to my deepest beliefs about it, because at the most basic hindbrain level, Jane had become central to those beliefs.

Folks shouldn't fret overmuch: today is better than yesterday, and I *will* get past it. Frankly, one of the reasons I had to watch every last moment of the burial, long after the point where the funeral director expected everyone to leave, was to drive home the ugly reality of it. The committal service was beautiful but somehow ethereal; the truck that was needed to lift the lid of the vault and put it into place did much to ground the proceedings and make it all feel much *less* dreamlike.

Of course, the strangeness keeps coming fast and thick. While I'm working at home today, I'm copying some VHS tapes onto DVD. The one I'm copying right now, even as I type, I hadn't even remembered existed until today: a tape of her Pelican vigil and ceremony. Seeing all of us when we were much younger (and generally much thinner) sharpens the focus of reality in a horribly synchronistic way...

Eulogy

Just read dervishspin's Eulogy post, and it occurs to me that this is the disadvantage of winging it. I didn't actually write mine down -- indeed, I was rewriting it in my head every time I rehearsed it, and what came out was different from any of those practice runs -- so I don't know exactly what I said. (I do know that actually delivering it was the only time I succeeded in getting all the way through it without completely breaking down. Oddly, speaking at full voice seems to have helped.)

I may try to reconstruct it here. Or not -- while it's against my usual instincts, part of me thinks it's better to just let it ethereally drift on the winds...

Eulogy

Just read dervishspin's Eulogy post, and it occurs to me that this is the disadvantage of winging it. I didn't actually write mine down -- indeed, I was rewriting it in my head every time I rehearsed it, and what came out was different from any of those practice runs -- so I don't know exactly what I said. (I do know that actually delivering it was the only time I succeeded in getting all the way through it without completely breaking down. Oddly, speaking at full voice seems to have helped.)

I may try to reconstruct it here. Or not -- while it's against my usual instincts, part of me thinks it's better to just let it ethereally drift on the winds...

Excavated

My deck is likely one of the better representations of the season to date. It's sheltered from the wind, so hasn't gotten much drifting on or off. It's mostly shaded from direct sunlight, and open underneath, so the melting has been slow. Basically, the snow falls onto it and stays there.

It's piled up to my waist. Maybe higher: there's at least some ice on the bottom, so I don't know precisely how much I'm standing on at the deepest I can dig. The top foot or so is light and fluffy; it gets progressively denser as I go further down.

Anyway, I've just shoveled out. Not all of it by any means, but I've dug some pathways around on it, to relieve a little of the weight -- I probably threw 300-500 pounds over the side. Hopefully that's enough to more than compensate for what will be added tomorrow.

I confess, I'm a bit worried about the roof: it's sloped, but not enough to be confident. That's harder to do much about, but after I dig out on Thursday, I may see about getting a roof rake to at least take some of the weight off...

Excavated

My deck is likely one of the better representations of the season to date. It's sheltered from the wind, so hasn't gotten much drifting on or off. It's mostly shaded from direct sunlight, and open underneath, so the melting has been slow. Basically, the snow falls onto it and stays there.

It's piled up to my waist. Maybe higher: there's at least some ice on the bottom, so I don't know precisely how much I'm standing on at the deepest I can dig. The top foot or so is light and fluffy; it gets progressively denser as I go further down.

Anyway, I've just shoveled out. Not all of it by any means, but I've dug some pathways around on it, to relieve a little of the weight -- I probably threw 300-500 pounds over the side. Hopefully that's enough to more than compensate for what will be added tomorrow.

I confess, I'm a bit worried about the roof: it's sloped, but not enough to be confident. That's harder to do much about, but after I dig out on Thursday, I may see about getting a roof rake to at least take some of the weight off...

Jungle Speed

[Pardon the burblage -- I'm snowed-in for now, and not having her here to talk to is one of the harder bits.]

One of the rather scary highlights of Birkacon this year was accidentally discovering the game Jungle Speed. It's rather delightful in a violent sort of way: a party game for when everyone is keyed up. (And possibly somewhat drunk.) I commend the rules to you: it's quick and easy to learn, and is almost how we played it. (Except that, this being Birka, the civilized rules about how to conduct duels went out the window -- we had people conducting tickle fights, pulling each other across the table, and pretty much any other underhanded approach we could think of to win. Ryan McWhyte wound up particularly battered by the end of the evening.)

Anyway, I've ordered a copy, and will likely bring it to some appropriate gaming occasions. It's a fine addition to the set of "games that can be played by more than six people" collection...

Jungle Speed

[Pardon the burblage -- I'm snowed-in for now, and not having her here to talk to is one of the harder bits.]

One of the rather scary highlights of Birkacon this year was accidentally discovering the game Jungle Speed. It's rather delightful in a violent sort of way: a party game for when everyone is keyed up. (And possibly somewhat drunk.) I commend the rules to you: it's quick and easy to learn, and is almost how we played it. (Except that, this being Birka, the civilized rules about how to conduct duels went out the window -- we had people conducting tickle fights, pulling each other across the table, and pretty much any other underhanded approach we could think of to win. Ryan McWhyte wound up particularly battered by the end of the evening.)

Anyway, I've ordered a copy, and will likely bring it to some appropriate gaming occasions. It's a fine addition to the set of "games that can be played by more than six people" collection...